Life is a Journey
by chantellescribbler
Summary: An arranged marriage and a death in the family send a young couple on a journey to fulfill dreams they didn't know they had. (AU The timeline and details may not follow the story you know, but all the guys will be in the story.)
1. Prologue

She was just a merchant's daughter, and he was a farmer's son. She was a city girl, he was born and raised in the country. He grew up in this land where the people spoke a different language than she did. Here they had strange customs and the families had been friends for generations. She was just an outsider looking in, a destitute merchants daughter being used to salvage the family reputation. Tomorrow she would be a married off to a man she had never met. Her father said love didn't matter. It was only money and position that was important. Still she couldn't give up her distant dreams of love. But it was only a dream, something that to easily floated away and left her to face the harsh truth of reality. She was a woman now and had to take up her position as one in a man's world. Yet still her thoughts persisted. Would he like her? Would he at least be kind to her? Because of the successful farm she knew he could provide for her. But she was so young, and so was he. Tomorrow they would pledge the rest of their lives to the other. She was only a young woman and he only a young man, yet their destinies had been decided already, by another.

* * *

He was a farmer's son; she was a merchant's daughter. What did they know about marriage or the future? He was a young man now, almost full-grown, ready to experience the world. He could do everything his father did. He cared for the land, tilling it every spring, then planting it, and sowing it. He was old enough to decide his own future, yet as if he were a child, it was decided for him. She had never worked on a farm, she was no older then he, yet forever more their lives would be linked together.

"What of love," he had asked his father?

The man had eyed him bitterly and said, "Look where it got me! My heart is full of grief and weighs on me more heavily every day."

His mother's death had changed his father in many ways. Still his father had a chance at love why shouldn't he? Better to have loved and lost then never at all! Yet here he was facing down a marriage he didn't really want with a bride he had never met before. She was new to this land and their customs while his family had been here for generations. She was a city girl and he a farmer's son. However all there differences narrowed under one question. Would she care for him?

* * *

They first met at the alter in a tiny little chapel. It was so small and rustic compared to the ones where she came from. The priest though was very kind and understanding. He smiled so gently at her that she almost burst into tears. Her first glimpse of the man she was to marry was promising. Despite his coltish, boyish looks he had a small smile on his face. When they joined hands he gave hers a comforting little squeeze. It also helped her nerves to find that he looked as nervous as she felt.

She didn't hear the priest at all until prodded to say, "I do."

She spent the time gazing at the man who was becoming her husband. He was hansom in his youthful looks, however he looked so young. Yet he had kind eyes and an encouraging way about him. For the first time since all this had started she had a better feeling about her marriage. She maybe a merchants daughter and he a farmers son yet they would learn this marriage business together!

* * *

He grumbled as he adjusted his good cloths. It had been a long time since he had been required to wear them and they felt stiff and confining. After his mothers death his father never went out so there was hardly any need for good clothes. Making last minute adjustments he headed to the front of the church to await his bride. His father grumbled that she was late and the priest murmured something he didn't catch. The palms of his hands were sweaty as he waited for her to arrive.

His first glimpse though was worth the wait. Her appearance made him gasp softly in appreciation. She was beautiful. Red curls framed a rosy face and brown eyes peaked at him from behind her veil. Her rose bud lips pursed with nervous energy as she walked forward. One small hand grasped her father's elbow the other clenched and unclenched at her side. It was nice to know this beautiful woman was just as nervous as he was. As they joined hands he gave hers an encouraging squeeze. Her rosebud mouth turned up with a hint of a smile. His heart jumped; perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. He could feel her studying him. Those intelligent brown eyes taking his measure. What did she see? Did she see a man or a boy? Was she happy with what she saw? He studied her back, the more he saw the more he realized how beautiful she was. He may be a young farmer and she a city girl but perhaps they could make this work after all.

* * *

She found he had a temper. Aft first that scared her a little until she realized he meant her no harm. Usually that temper wasn't even directed at her. She also found he was a hard worker. Him and his father woke before dawn and fell into bed long after the sun was down. For the first day of her marriage her husband stuck around the house. He told her that he was the cook when it was just him and his father. Now it was her job. He showed her the cellar with all the dried goods. He also showed her how to milk the cow and where the chickens liked to hide their eggs. He asked if she could make butter when she shook her head he showed her how. So much of what she bought in the city was made by hand or grown here it was bewildering. Her husband surprised her with his kind words and patience. She also discovered he had a quirky sense of humor. Sometimes he would whisper a joke in her ear and then snicker about it all day long. He could also play some rather annoying practical jokes.

* * *

The longer she was on the farm the more she realized her father- in- law's temper was the one to watch. He was still grieving his wife and had turned bitter over the hardships life had thrown at him. At times his words could be cutting but her husband weathered through it. When life gets rough you weather through it until the sunshine comes out again. At least that was her husband's motto. As she went about her chores thinking of the man she married she realized that her husband was growing in her estimation.

* * *

Ever since the wedding he felt her eyes on him. He hoped he was living up to the man she felt he should be. He might not be full-grown but he still wanted to be worthy of the title of husband. And he watched her too. She hardly knew anything about farming, yet she was willing to learn. He taught her many things, both in the kitchen and out. She taught him much more. She showed him what kindness was in the face of his fathers cutting words. She taught him forgiveness when he hurt her. His bride also taught him patience as she tried to learn all he taught her. Each day he was sure she became more beautiful to him. She wasn't perfect. She had a temper to match his own and a sharp tongue to match his father. Yet in the use of these she was often wiser than him or his father. Life was rough and far from perfect, farm life was never easy. However the distances between him and his wife were narrowing.


	2. Young Love

**Now you know who the mysterious couple is. I hope you are enjoying the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Please comment and let me know. I don't mind constructive** **criticism either. How else will I improve my writing :)**

She smiled as she sat on her stool before the mirror. Life was hard but her husband was good. Her Charles was sitting on the bed watching her brush out her hair with dreamy eyes. Nobody had ever looked at her as if she were the prettiest thing they had ever seen. He did. They caught eyes and both blushed, feeling foolish she blew out the candle and climbed into bed.

* * *

The morning started early. Charles was out of bed before she was. Up long before the sun, he was out in the barn starting his chores. She dressed and did her hair then slipped out into the kitchen. They had been married six months now and so many things had changed. Most of the farm chores she had to do were now old hand to her. Charles was a good teacher. She smiled thinking of last night as she cut the thick rye bread and placed some cheese on the table to go with it. Neither had admitted it yet, however she believed she had found love with Charles. He was a good man and she was thankful for him.

Heavy boots sounded on the steps and a moment later the door was thrown open to admit the two men. Charles was taller than his father now, but he was still very thin. She made sure to give him an extra helping so his body could keep up with his energetic self. He grinned and winked at her making sure she had enough before digging into his food. She blushed and smiled to herself before sitting down and enjoying her own meal.

The men finished fast and left the table in a hurry. Usually there was little conversation as they ate. Either the men were too rushed or to tired to talk much. There was always so much to do on a farm.

* * *

Charles waved from where he was repairing the barn roof, and she waved back before continuing on with her chores.

A loud shout in the yard brought her running back out. During the few minutes she had been inside her husband had found deep trouble! He was facing down two armed men, both considerably larger than he was. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted another man sneaking around behind the barn. Her breath caught in her throat, there was no way Charles could deal with this on his own. She had to do something. Pushing down her panic she hurried back inside and grabbed the shotgun aiming it out the window. The man hidden behind the barn was aiming at her husband. She only had one chance. Heart pounding and hands shaking she raised her own weapon, aimed, and pulled the trigger. She wasn't sure if she had hit anything, but for now Charles was safe from the gunman.

Pulling herself together she looked for her husband. He was fighting off one of the men, while his father had taken on another. She silently screamed into her hand as yet another man set the barn aflame. How many men were there, and how long could Charles hold them off? He wasn't invincible even though he acted like he was. Not knowing how to reload the gun, and cursing the fact she never learned, she rushed back outside. The man by the barn had disappeared. Praying her husband would keep the men at bay she snuck around to the barn doors to let the animals go. She could hear their shrill screams above the sounds of the fight and it broke her heart. Pulling open the door with all her might, she was nearly knocked over by the blast of heat that slammed into her. Rushing into the burning building she tried to ignore the loud roaring and snapping of the fire. Instead her whole focus was on the few animals inside. They were terrified, and some refused to move. The fire was getting worse and it felt like she had been in the barn for an eternity. Finally the last animal was out and she could leave.

Back outside she noticed her husband was noticeably lagging and the bandits were taking advantage of that. She wished there was something else she could do. She was not made for hiding, but the last thing her husband needed was the bandits using her to their advantage. So she watched tensely from her hiding spot praying that Charles would come out of this alive.

* * *

It didn't matter what Constance was doing she was always beautiful. As he was fixing the barn roof he stopped to watch her as she stepped outside to do her chores. Her glorious red hair shown brightly in the sunshine making her seem so alive and on fire. Constance hadn't said anything about it, but he knew he was falling for her. He also knew she was happy. A couple of times he had caught her singing as she did her chores. He had taken her hand and they had danced around the kitchen. She was such a joy. She brought such happiness into the house after death had taken it away. The sound of riders jolted him out of his dreams. Climbing down from his perch he went to meet them. The men were dressed nicer than most men around the area. He didn't recognize either of them. Obviously they were not farmers. Their beautifully crafted swords flashed in the sunlight and caught his eye. Were they friends or foe?

"Something I can do for you gentlemen?"

They didn't answer and instantly he became suspicious. Drawing his sword he challenged them with a shout. The men ganged up on him and suddenly he realized this wasn't going to end well. The clash of metal on metal was loud in his ears and he winced at the heavy-handed blows the men doled out. They swiped and kicked at him trying to knock his own sword out of his hand. This was no gentlemanly fighting it was rather a fight to the death. He was fighting trained men. It wouldn't take long for the two of them to overwhelm him. He just didn't have the endurance in him for a long fight. In the back of his mind he wondered how many men he was facing? As if to answer his question the barn went up in flames. Obviously there was at least one more. Already his arm ached and his shirt was wet with blood and sweat. He needed help. He couldn't keep Constance safe by himself.

"Please don't let them find Constance," he prayed silently, as he continued to fight with all he had.

He was loosing ground fast. Where was everyone? A shout distracted his opponent just enough that he was able to land a hit. Using his reflexes he danced out of the way of the man's retaliation. He didn't have to look. The shout had been his father. Now he only had to focus on one man. Still his body was exhausted and hurting. He couldn't count how many times he had almost been killed in a matter of minutes. A shot startled everyone out of their fighting rhythm. Franticly looking around for a body he noticed the raider by the barn was dead. The only person who was around to fire that shot was Constance. His woman was a gem, a brave, wonderful, beautiful gem.

But the fight wasn't over yet. He was just a farm boy and they were trained men. The fight intensified almost as if they knew he was at his end. He felt a sharp pulse of pain in his side and a warm rush of blood. This was it. He tried to dance away from the heavy-handed blows but his body had become sluggish and uncooperative.

The fiery pain took over his body and darkness washed over him echoing Constance's scream, "Charles D'Artagnan!

* * *

The men had left, but not before they had killed her husband and burnt their farm. Constance stood frozen staring at the destruction around her. The farm was gone. One of the fields was ablaze and the others were sure to follow.

"Charles," she whispered longing for his arms to encircle her. But he was gone and she was alone. Not even her father-in-law had lived through the fight. She rushed across the yard to kneel at her husband's side gently cradling his pale face in her hands.

"Oh Charles I loved you," she whispered with tears streaming down her face. "I loved you so much you were so good to me! I never got to tell you that."

Her whole body ached with her sorrow and loneliness. She could barely see his hansom face through her tears. What was she supposed to do now? Where could she go? How could she… A soft moan of pain to stopped her grief in its tracts.

"Charles? Charles! Oh Charles!"

Hastily wiping her tears away she checked for his pulse. Finding it she tried to hold back her tears. This time they were tears of joy, but they wouldn't help the situation. Blood pooled under her husbands body making her gulp. He was alive, but for how long? Loosing that amount of blood wasn't healthy. He could still die and Constance wasn't sure she could take seeing him slip away again. A wife wasn't supposed to watch her husband die twice! She needed to do something fast! She needed to bind up his wounds and go for help. Shaking herself out of her fog, she did just that, kissing her husbands pale cheek, she ran for his life.

The nearest neighbor was a mile away. Would she be able to reach them in time? Would Charles still be alive when she got back? Her breath came out in harsh pants as she raced through the field taking a short cut to their neighbor's road. If she had the energy she would have cried when she saw them headed her way. As it was all she could do was wave them on. They had seen the smoke and were coming to help. Their timing may just have saved her Charles life! After she met them everything seemed to happen in a blur. Charles was carefully loaded into a wagon and taken to the neighbors, his father was readied for burial, and the doctor came to examine her husband. Through it all she clung to the man she had married. The man she had thought she had lost. Never in her life would she forget that feeling of agony. She had a feeling it would haunt her dreams for days to come.

Leaning over Charles she whispered in his ear "You must survive, I can't go on without you. Come back to me and know that I love you!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**The couple finally meets the guys. Things get a little explosive. Let me know how you like it. I would love to hear from you!**

 **Thanks**

Pain.

It radiated from his side down his legs and into his arms. White-hot pain, piercing blinding pain, unstoppable pain. Would it ever end? Between the waves of pain he remembered fighting. He remembered the swordsmen, and the painful way the fight had ended.

"Constance!" Was she safe, in good health? His eyes flew open and immediately connected with her worried brown ones. Tear tracts marred her rosy complexion and her rosebud mouth was twisted in sorrow. It wasn't a look he wanted to see on her face.

His arms were to heavy to lift so instead he whispered her name, "Constance." She smiled sadly at him.

"Father?"

She shook her head, curls dancing in the candle light. "He was killed."

D'Artagnan closed his eyes to stop the tears. He could cry later when Constance wasn't around. The agony in his body wasn't just from his injuries anymore. Now his heart hurt worse than his side. But he had to know.

"The workers?"

"I haven't heard from them."

"Farm?"

"Burnt to the ground."

Life suddenly weighed heavily on him. It had only taken a moment to tear his family apart.

"Charles?" He looked up at her trying to be the man he ought to be and hide his tears. "Charles we have each other. We aren't alone."

He tried to smile and she just squeezed his hand in response. No other words were needed.

* * *

"I have to go after them. They can't go free."

Constance whirled around and glared at him. "You foolish boy are you trying to get yourself killed like your father?" Her worry over his announcement exposed itself as anger. She couldn't watch him die. There was no way she would survive it a second time!

"I am fighting for him, they have to be stopped!"

"And you are the one to do it? You who can't hardly get out of bed because you are in so much pain?"

"Who else is going to do it Constance? When did you decide to sit back and do nothing? Give me a day and I will be right as rain!"

"What about the farm," she asked? "And how will you know where to find them?"

If he weren't hurt she just might have slapped him for insinuating she was a coward.

"There's nothing left and I don't have the money to rebuild. Those men told me they were musketeers from the king. They were punishing us because of all the unrest happening in Gascony."

"You are willing to die in order to exact revenge? What about me?"

"Constance…"

"No tell me the truth. I thought you had died. After the fight I was sure you had left me. Think of how you feel for your father and then tell me if you are still willing to leave me to exact revenge!"

"Constance no! I'm not leaving you. But how can I let them get away with what they did? I have to come to terms with Papa's death somehow."

All the anger drained out of her. She slipped into the chair next to his bed and placed a hand on his cheek. "Charles it won't bring back your father."

She watched as his eyes flooded with tears and his mouth moved but no words came out. Charles was silent for several moments as he worked through his emotions. She let him be, gently stroking her fingers through his long dark hair.

"Constance, I've lost my entire family now, they were my anchor. I have no idea what to do anymore. I need to do this to make peace with myself."

She sighed deeply trying to push down her own fear that one day soon she would loose him.

"Charles promise me you will think about this. I can't loose you."

"I promise, I will always come back to you Constance."

She smiled through her tears. "There has already been enough death."

"I promise Constance, I promise."

* * *

Charles wasn't anywhere near well enough to be traveling; yet here they were on the road to Paris. Her husband was a very stubborn man! She could be stubborn too, and currently she was proud of herself for keeping him in bed for a week after the attack at the farm. It had been a long and stressful week. Charles was full of fire to find the men who had killed his father. It was eating away at him inside, never letting him rest. She could see it in his face and in his impatience with his healing body. Now they were headed after the Kings men. Though why the raiders were clear down in Lupiac if the men were the Kings she had no idea.

It was a three-day trip and his body was still healing. They had enough money to stay at an inn. She had insisted. Now settled into their room she took a look at Charles wounds.

"The smaller gashes are healing well. The puncture wound in your side is still rather raw."

He nodded. "Feels raw."

"Does it pain you?"

"No I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes and spread the salve over it. If one of his limbs were practically lopped off he would still say he was fine!

"Tomorrow we see Paris," he whispered. The excitement was clear in his voice. "I've never been beyond Gascony before!"

She smiled he had a big surprise waiting for him in the hustle and bustle of Paris.

The sights and sounds of a big city were like coming home. She smiled as they walked hand and hand through the market. Smells of fresh bread wafted from the corner store and the sharp sent of blood and meat hinted at the merchandise sold at another stand.

"Enjoying yourself?"

She looked over at her husband who was eyeing her with a smirk. This was all new to him and he reminded her of a child at Christmas.

"Very much. I didn't realize I was homesick for the city."

His smirk disappeared, "I'm sorry you were dragged away."

She shook her head sorry she had said anything and taken the smile from his face, "It wasn't your fault, it was my fathers and I'm not sorry."

His smile came back full force and hand in hand they continued exploring the market until they found a place to stay the night.

* * *

"My name is D'Artagan of Lupiac in Gascony. Prepare to fight, one of us dies here." He kept his gun aimed at the scruffy man hiding under his beige hat. Everyone in the courtyard paused what they were doing and turned to stare at him.

"Now that's the way to make an entrance," declared a man standing behind the musketeer Athos.

D'Artagan's anger rose and his blood sang for a fight. The man was mocking him, mocking his father's death, and mocking the loss of his farm.

"Are you going to fight me or not," he yelled?

"May I ask why," questioned Athos?

Again the anger swirled through him making him practically spit out the words, "You murdered my father and burned my farm." Leaving the man with no time to ask any more questions D'Artagan ran across the courtyard with a yell to engage the musketeer Athos.

"You are mistaken, I never murdered your father." With that the man raised his sword to fight.

Their swords sang as they crashed together. Exhilaration filled his body as he leapt and dodged his opponent's blade. He had never crossed swords with a finer swordsman. Athos made it look effortless and graceful. It was as if he was dancing through a crowd on the palace dance floor. All thoughts fled as his opponent forced him to go on the defense. He realized he was going to loose. He was right his sword flew out of his hands and a moment later Athos pinned him against a pillar and declared he didn't want to kill him.

The fire in his blood took over washing away any rational thought. Athos hadn't had any qualms about killing his father! With the throw of a short sword they were fighting again. Only this time he was fighting all three of them. He knew there was no hope of a win but he couldn't let this go. It was eating at him inside, this desire for vengeance. His father had died a senseless death and someone had to pay!

"Stop fighting! All of you! Is three against one fair," questioned a feminine voice?

The three musketeers turned around to face the new comer while D'Artaganan dropped his head. Constance. The red fog of anger cleared from his mind and he remembered the talk they'd had while he was still injured and abed. He hadn't been wise about this. He had heard Athos name in the street and had let his anger take over. What kind of husband would she think he was? Shame washed over him wiping away his anger.

"We weren't going to kill him Madam," explained Athos.

"We weren't," asked the dark man questioningly?

The other man who made the smart comments when he entered the courtyard spoke up again, "Next time let us know!"

The anger quickly overcame his shame. They were making fun of him, in front of his wife! He was not going to stand for this! Getting up from the stairs where he had been pinned he opened his mouth to comment only to have Constance beat him to it.

"If only men would think instead of fight there might be more good ones left!"

Again the smart mouthed man spoke up, "Her I like, him I'm not so sure about!"

Before he could respond a man stepped out onto the porch overhead and stared down at them unamused.

"Dueling in the garrison?"

The men shook their heads and the smart mouthed one replied, "We would never!"

"Good, I wouldn't want to have to give you extra parade duty." With that the man gave them all a reproachful look and disappeared into his office again.

Athos turned and faced him. "I am not the man you are looking for."

He frowned stunned by the events of the day, where had he gone wrong?

"Why did the raiders say you name," he whispered confused beyond anything he had ever known. How was he ever going to make his father's death right?

"I don't know, but you have the wrong man."

Constance tried to take his arm to walk out but he stayed stiff as a board. He didn't want comfort he wanted answers!

TBC


	4. Making Friends

Sometimes Constance wondered if she would ever understand men. Charles had stalked out of the garrison alone while she had trailed along behind him like a trained puppy. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she remembered their exit. Evidently he did not want her support!

Charles was still wounded and very fragile emotionally after all that had happened at the farm. Although heaven help her if she said that to him! So she worried silently for Charles afraid his anger would take him away from her. How could she loose the man she was growing to love?

* * *

The day was turning into a long wearisome day. He had been out searching for a job and had left Constance in the market place. She informed him the market was where you find information. She would know, as she was more familiar with larger cities. D'Artagnan hoped Constance had found out something. His search had yielded nothing and he was rather discouraged. At the farm there was always something to show for a hard days work. Today, he had nothing.

His father's death and the loss of the farm weighed heavily on his heart. Every time he thought of it a wave of regret washed over him. The pain was almost too much so D'Artagnan focused on letting the new sights and sounds of Paris try to drown out his loss. He took a shuttery breath, that plan was not working well. The pain of loosing the last of his family was constant and sharp. Constance's words about leaving her alone came back to haunt him. He knew exactly how that felt! D'Artagnan promised himself he would give her his best. No more duels out of vengeance for his father death. He had to live for the living not for the dead. If she wanted him around he would be there for her.

A group of soldiers up a head blocked his path. Remembering the warning from the market place that soldiers meant trouble D'Artagnan turned to cut through a side ally. Out of the corner of his eye he happened to notice what the soldiers were doing. One man was in the center of a human ring and the soldiers dressed in red had him surrounded. The zing of metal on metal was loud as the man trapped in the center fought for his life.

Now that he had seen the trouble there was no way D'Artagnan could leave the man there to face death alone. With a whispered prayer of apology to Constance he drew his sword and with a battle yell confronted the soldiers. Everyone turned in surprise. The man trapped took the opportunity to take down a few of his opponents. D'Artagnan didn't pause to watch. Instead he lifted his sword and brought it down on the nearest soldier. The man parried back with a sneer.

"Who are you little boy," taunted the soldier?

D'Artagnan swung his sword faster catching the man off guard. Dancing around the soldier he looked for a weak spot to attack.

Not breathing hard yet he came up with a taunt of his own, "Who are you attacking one lone man?"

The solder laughed at him but didn't comment instead he focused on taking D'Artagnan down. Dodging a sword thrust that happened to come to close to his face he closed in for victory against the soldier. Thankfully the man was nowhere near as good as Athos and it didn't take much to take the soldier down. Quickly he moved onto the next one the thrill of the fight pulsing through his body. Only now he was facing two men. Worried slightly he used his short sword to try and hold off one of the soldiers as he faced the other. His sword sung as it connected with one of the soldier's swords. Backing up a bit he made sure both were facing him and not being sneaky. All his attention was focused on the fight. He had no idea if the man who had been trapped was well or not.

"Well boy, you going to take me down? Are you sure a little pup like you can handle it?"

He glared at the man and spat, "I'll show you!"

D'Artagnan was more determined now to win. Through luck the man stumbled and D'Artagnan took advantage of it. "Guess a pup showed you," he snarled. The flash of a blade cut his taunt short as he ducked the second soldier's sword. Quickly rolling to his feet he advanced on the man who threatened him.

"That was just plain luck country boy!"

With a yell, D'Artagnan charged his opponent feeling a sliver of fire slice his arm. Ignoring it he knocked the man back with a punch and swung with his sword. The man came back at him rapidly. This one was better than the others, a hint of worry found its way into his heart.

"What is the matter pup, bit off more than you can chew?"

"Not a pup," muttered D'Artagnan, dodging the man's sword yet again.

"I say you are, and you fight like a pup…"

D'Artagnan's yell drowned out the rest of the soldier's words. He knew he should not let his anger take over but he was no PUP! No, he was a married MAN!

But now he was a man in trouble! The pain in his arm grew as the soldier sliced him again. He saw red and viciously went after his opponent. Only to stand stunned as the soldier dropped with a surprised gasp. D'Artagnan froze, his sword held high, confused and taken aback.

"Head before heart pup," slurred a familiar voice.

Whirling around he came face to face with Athos, the man he had tried to kill. They were now alone on a dark and deserted Paris street. Evidently the rest of the soldiers had fled. How noble of them.

"Are you well," he gasped trying to get over his surprise?

The man wavered, righting him self he muttered something unintelligible. Athos smelled of cheap wine making D'Artagnan wonder how the man had fought so well. Picking up a bottle that had fallen in the fight Athos chugged it down before slurring the words, "I'm fine!"

Fine his foot! The man was well into his cups, had a black eye, bloody nose, and more blood on his sleeves!

D'Artaganan chuckled and commented, "You are far from fine mister. Best take you back to your friends."

"Thought ya wanted ta kill me. Just finish me off here that way I don't have ta be hung over."

D'Artagnan huffed in annoyance and put his hands on his hips, "Mister, what ever I may think of you, I am not without honor. My father taught me to be a gentleman, I will not stab you in the back."

With that he braced himself and pulled the drunken musketeer towards the garrison.

"What do ya think yer doin'," mumbled Athos swinging a fist at his face.

D'Artagnan jumped out of the way causing the man to waver again and almost fall over. More blood was oozing onto the man's sleeve.

"I'm getting you home you fool. You are bleeding badly and are about to pass out. Though I don't know if that is from wine or injury!"

"Get yer hands off me."

D'Artaganan did so for a second. Athos would have fallen had he not ducked back under the musketeer's arm. Gathering all of his rather insignificant patience, D'Artagnan held onto the grumbling cursing man and guided him down the dark streets of Paris. He hoped they could get to the Garrison all right. The streets were not exactly easy to follow. With so many corners and alleys it was a trick not to get lost. During the day he found his way around using church steeples and well-known places. Now darkness covered all his landmarks. After twenty minutes of winding their way through the narrow streets they came to the Garrison entrance. D'Artaganan was relieved, several times he had worried that he had lost his way.

"Here we are," he muttered to the almost insensible man.

"Mmmmh," was his only response.

"Who's there the guard challenged?"

D'Artagnan stepped closer to the light hoping Athos familiar face would do the trick. It did. The guard rolled his eyes and waved them through without another word. Once in the courtyard though D'Artaganan didn't know what to do. He paused awkwardly for a moment before he saw movement by the stairs.

"Hello, I need help over here!"

Hurried footsteps sounded and he soon saw the face of the man with the smart mouth.

"Athos," gasped the man. He then turned D'Artaganan's way, face full of fury.

"What did you do to him?"

Frustration made D'Artagnan yell, "I found him this way!"

Quick as lightning the man's face changed, the fury disappearing. Leaning forward the musketeer smelled his friend's breath, wincing he then helped drag Athos into the infirmary.

"Help me lay him down. Do you know what's the matter?

D'Artaganan talked over Athos protests and explained what he had walked into. Nodding the man told him to run down to the kitchen and get hot water. Doing as he was told he ran down the stairs, into the courtyard, and paused. He had no idea where he was going. Tables were set up outside one of the buildings giving him a clue. Rushing inside he found himself face to face with the cook, who was currently giving him the death glare.

"Athos is hurt, Doc needs some hot water and linens."

D'Artagnan didn't know if the musketeer was a doctor but it sure made the cook move fast so he was glad he added it. Once the articles were handed over he dashed back outside, through the courtyard, up the stairs, and back into the infirmary.

"Here," he declared breathlessly.

The man nodded and continued working, occasionally asking for his help. D'Artaganan waited out of the medic's way and watched. Sitting down in an empty chair he let his body come down from the high of the fight. D'Artagnan found he was exhausted. This was no surprise; he had been tired before he had even walked into the fight. To stay awake he focused on the medic, whose name he had yet to hear. When the man finished and turned around he seemed surprised to still see D'Artagnan there.

"Most men would had left by now you know."

D'Artaganan shrugged.

"In both situations most people would have walked away. Why didn't you?"

"Wasn't right. I was raised as a gentleman, I just can't walk away when someone needs my help."

"You came to Paris to KILL Athos."

"Yes, but the fight today was unfair, I couldn't leave him to fight off six soldiers all by himself. And besides a group attacking a lone man defies every principal of chivalry!"

"But bringing him back in order to fight him again does not?"

"Close enough," grinned D'Artaganan.

The man rolled his eyes. "You are a hard one to figure. Thank you for bringing him back. I'm Aramis."

D'Artaganan stood and shook the man's hand, glad to finally have a name to put to the face, although it wasn't as if he would be getting to know these men or anything.

"I'm Charles…"

"D'Artaganan of Lupiac in Gascony," finished Aramis. "We have already been introduced, remember?"

TBC


	5. Musketeer Business

Constance wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Her husband had come home wounded yet again! How did Charles find himself in so many dangerous situations? She could only hope the trend wouldn't continue as she carefully cleaned the cuts on his arms.

"This one will need some stitching," she murmured. One slice was deeper than the other.

"Can you do that?"

There was so much yet they didn't know about each other, but they were learning.

"Yes, hold still Charles." With that Constance threaded her needle and mended her husband's arm. Once she was done she dabbed the area with some salve and wrapped it up. "Don't do hard work with that arm for a few days," she warned.

"Yes Dr. Constance."

She laughed and hugged the exasperating man. He always found trouble yet he always came back to her. He wouldn't be her Charles if he had left Athos to fend for himself.

* * *

Once again D'Artaganan was discouraged. The only job he had been offered was as a stable boy. The pay from that wouldn't support a family. As Constance had reminded him the other night when he had come home so late, D'Artagnan had more to think of than himself.

"When did she become so wise," he muttered maneuvering out of the way of a wagonload of goods?

He still had his father's money. It was the reason they were able to rent a place in a decent neighborhood. But it wouldn't last forever and he was worried. Constance deserved a place of her own. He sighed; perhaps coming to Paris hadn't been his best choice. However he couldn't see himself going back to farming. Working hard for his living and then handing it over to an idle king wasn't something he wanted to do.

"Kid, hey D'Artaganan!"

He turned confused, only three musketeers and Constance knew his name in this vast city of people. Who on earth could be calling him?

"D'Artaganan…" he watched as the man dodged around the people in the street and breathlessly made his way over to him. "I thought it was you."

"You were looking for me?"

Aramis nodded, "Athos is in trouble and you are the only one who can get him out."

"What happened? Out of where?" This sounded serious.

"Athos is in jail. He got put in for illegal dueling and attacking the Red Guard."

"Who is the Red Guard," D'Artagnan asked getting a bad feeling that he already knew.

"The Cardinals guard. The ones the two of you were fighting the other day. Athos is going to have a trial tomorrow, but we need witnesses."

His hunch had been correct. For once he wished it hadn't. "I'll help." All the air seemed to go out of the man as Aramis let out a long sigh and patted D'Artagnan's back.

"You're a good man."

D'Artaganan could only shrug. From the things he had heard about the Cardinal he could only hope his voice would help and not hurt.

* * *

The place was splendid.

The room was perfectly decorated and adorned to show off the grandeur of the royalty. To bad those leading out weren't as beautiful character wise as the room was lovely! In Constance's humble opinion the trial was a complete waste of time. Looking around the room she watched the other spectators shift uncomfortably as each witness was called. They seemed to share her disgust with the proceedings.

The Captain of the Musketeers was doing all he could to defend his man and the Cardinal was doing all he could to condemn him. Charles had filled her in on all the details so she was able to follow what was happening. Even Constance could see that evidence was becoming twisted beyond recognition.

"Fools," she muttered under her breath as the King continued to only listen to the Cardinal.

"Some one better grow a spine," she continued to grumble internally.

It was sickening the way people groveled. Constance wrung her hands waiting to see if anyone could get Athos free.

The Cardinal evidently wanted to make an example of Athos. The man himself seemed to stand there dispassionately. No emotions showed on his face. How could Athos face death so confidently? She wondered what her husband's father felt in his last moments? Was he relieved to not have to survive without his wife any longer? Was he scared? Was he in pain? Or was he as stony faced as this musketeer staring down the King and Cardinal?

Her thoughts paused as Charles was called forward. She was eager to see if his testimony would be the turning point. Loud and strong he told his story. He too was facing down King and Cardinal with only a slight waver to his voice. Constance was so proud of him. What a good man Charles was, and he was hers!

* * *

As D'Artagnan stepped up to speak in defense of Athos he wondered if everyone could see him shaking. The Cardinal was eyeing him as if he was the worst of criminals. D'Artagnan hoped to never again be on the man's bad side. Even the King didn't scare him half as bad. Only the thought of an innocent man facing the firing quad allowed him to speak. He was very thankful when his voice came out clear and steady rather than high and squeaky. Once D'Artagnan was done he was very happy to step back into the crowd.

He let his breath out in one big exhale glad his speech was done!

One of the musketeers near him praised his actions and pounded him on the back.

"Thank you lad," came from the Captain along with a handshake.

D'Artagnan nodded and smiled just glad Athos was free. The more he had seen of the musketeers and their honor the more he knew Athos had not killed his father.

Now as the adrenalin drained from his body, he felt tired and sad. Sad that justice was such a farce and that there would be no justice for his father. He still didn't know who had killed his family and destroyed the farm.

"Ey kid, you did good."

He pushed his thoughts away as far as he could and pasted another smile on his face. The tall dark musketeer he finally knew as Porthos was praising him.

"Indeed. I suppose I owe you my life."

Praise from Athos too! "I was just seeing justice done."

"And yet you never saw it for your father," reminded Aramis.

Damn the man was good! How had he read his mind?

"You have the qualities of a musketeer, come to the garrison and I will see you have a spot to train," declared Athos.

"You can do that," gasped D'Artaganan? This was beyond anything he had ever expected. He would need to find Constance and tell her the good news. She was around here somewhere. The men smiled, shook his hand and walked out after the Captain. Searching through the crowds he finally found Constance and enveloped her in a hug.

"You're excited," she giggled, "Not that I'm complaining!"

He laughed back and led her outside away from the crowd. "Athos offered me a spot in the musketeers."

"What, did you take it?"

He shook his head. "I wanted to talk to you. It would be very different from what we are used to. Although the pay would be more than a job working at a stable."

"But you could be facing death everyday," she whispered. "What would happen to me if you are killed?"

"I still have a bit of money from the farm…"

"What does money have to do with it? I'm not sure I can face another death," whispered Constance with tears in her eyes.

He nodded, "I'll do something else, I promised I would be here for you." He let his fingers gently stroke down her cheek in comfort. They were standing so close to each other, he longed to kiss her. She was so beautiful and her lips were so near…

"Charles, you are a good man."

He blushed, then chuckled, pulling away from her a little disappointed he hadn't taken his chance.

"Everyone is telling me that today."

"Because it's true." Drawing closer to D'Artagnan she surprised him by pecked him on the lips.

His arms were immediately around her lengthening the kiss until they were breathless. In the aftermath they both gazed at each other soaking in the moment. D'Artagnan had never loved her more and in that moment he knew he wanted to grow old by her side.

Street noise broke the moment up.

"Guess we better get home," D'Artagnan whispered breathlessly.

She smiled and fell in along side him grasping his hand in hers. His heart felt full for the first time since his father's death. With her he felt like he belonged. Walking back his smile was so wide it felt like it was splitting his face in two. How he loved this woman!

* * *

The sun was out, the day was warm, his wife cared for him, and he was going to be a musketeer.

The world was on his side nothing could bring him down today! D'Artagnan couldn't wait to reach the garrison and let Athos know he was going to take him up on his offer.

A musketeer!

He had heard stories about them all his life. To his father they were the embodiment of loyalty and brotherhood. To think that could be his! Out of nowhere a hand yanked him into an ally where he was slammed violently against a wall. He saw stars. For a long moment D'Artagnan couldn't move the pain and suddenness paralyzing him.

"Kid you are more trouble than you're worth."

Refusing to be cowed, he kicked out against the man. The soldier cursed but wasn't fast enough to block the kick or the punch D'Artaganan aimed for his face. Another soldier appeared out of nowhere and hit him from behind. Dimly he felt himself slide down the brick wall and land on the filthy street. His head was knocked against the brick of the building and he knew no more.

TBC


	6. Taken

**Here are some answers from last chapters cliff hanger. Let me know how you like it.**

Constance paced the floor angrily. Where was Charles? She had expected him to be gone all day but she had not expected him to be gone all night! Last time he had come home late he had promised to always try and send her word. There was no note and no husband and she was upset! When he came through the door he would get a slap and a hug in that order! It wasn't like him to be so late. With each passing hour her worry creped past her anger. Last time Charles was late coming home, he was home earlier than this. This was very unlike him. Her insides were churning with anger and worry so much she skipped super and continued to pace. There was no way she was sleeping tonight. As soon as the morning light came she would go to the garrison and see what had happened.

Constance woke with a stiff neck and a worried heart. Charles was still not home. What could have happened? Fearing the worst, she dressed quickly and set out for the garrison. The guards at the gate gave her no problems so she quickly entered the courtyard looking for her man. A few musketeers were eating but the place was otherwise empty. She thought she recognized the tall dark man from Athos' trial.

"Pardon me sir," she said after approaching his table. He wasn't eating in fact he seemed to be waiting.

"Ma'am?"

"You are Porthos right? Friend of Athos?"

"Yes, an you are?"

"Constance D'Artaganan."

His eyes widened, obviously recognizing the name. "Are you his sister?"

"Wife…"

"He's married?"

"Who's married," asked another voice? "This lovely lady? What a shame."

Constance whirled around and glared at the two men behind her, "keep talking an I'll gut you like a fish. I'm happily married and no play thing for the likes of you!"

A loud chuckle sounded from Porthos. "Now that's the way to put him in his place!"

Exasperated with their joking she put her hands on her hips and demanded, "Where is my husband?"

"Husband," asked Athos?

"Charles D'Artaganan, who is currently missing while you fool around!"

"He's married," gasped Aramis?

Throwing up her hands she yelled, "Is that such an astonishing thing?"

"Madam, please come sit down and tell us what has happened to your husband," soothed Aramis.

She sat down and repeated the whole story, down to the fact he was heading to the garrison to train with them. There was a slight smile out of Aramis at that.

"We would have been proud to have him. He proved himself in the defense of our brother."

She could only smile back when Aramis smiled there was no other option.

"We will ask around," promised Porthos, "see if someone saw something."

"Madam we will find him," soothed Athos. She wasn't sure if it was his intense look or his words that calmed her the most. Here was a man on a mission, a man whose word you took most seriously.

"Thank you," she whispered full of emotion. "Thank you so much!"

* * *

D'Artagnan groaned as he came back to himself. He felt like he had been run over by a loaded wagon. Taking stock of all his aches and pains he decided that wasn't drastic enough. No his body felt more like the stone chapel in Lupiac had collapsed on him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," taunted a gravely male voice.

D'Artagnan wasn't ready to acknowledge anyone yet. In fact he wasn't sure he could move and he had absolutely no idea where he was. This was bad, very bad. He swore in Gascon, words his father would have belted him for, as he tried to sit up.

"Where am I," he moaned, his surroundings still hadn't stopped spinning.

"Jail actually. Don't bother telling me your not guilty, that's what they all say."

"All who say?"

The man snickered, "you ain't makin' sense kid. How hard they hit you?"

"Who hit me?"

"Red Guard kid. You certainly ain't a musketeer!"

"Apparently neither are you!"

The man grunted at his sass and continued to blithely inform him of his fate. "Guards said they caught you dueling. Ain't supposed to do that. Yer not from around here are ya?"

By this point D'Artagnan was fed up with the man and worried about Constance. "Did I sound like it when I was swearing earlier?"

"Oi, kids got sass. What language was that anyway, I haven't heard it before?"

"You hear a lot of languages where you're from?"

That shut the man up. D'Artagnan leaned back against the filthy walls and brought his legs up to his chest. Somehow he had to get back to Constance she would be so worried. She was already upset that something might take him away from her and here it was happening sooner than they expected. Paris was more dangerous than he had ever imagined!

Thinking of Constance caused him to think about his father. That was a bad idea. All the drama from the past week in Paris had tempered his grief. Now it flooded onto him like a wave. His father was gone like his mother.

"I cannot cry, I will not cry, I will survive, Constance, think of Constance…"

It was his mantra. He repeated her name over and over again.

Super came several hours later. He looked into the bowl and grimaced. It was even worse than some of the food he had been offered at inns along the way to Paris.

"Mutton stew," his fellow prisoner informed him.

Pulling up the meat up by its tail he nearly puked, "Mutton's the one that goes baaaaa," he corrected.

The man snickered and then violently knocked him back against the wall taking his food. "Ya learn to eat what is given to ya mama's boy!"

"Evidently your mama never taught you manners," he spat trying to stay conscious. His body hurt so bad. Everything was aching, his head was pounding, his ears were ringing and his old gunshot wound was aching. He had never felt so bad in his life. Not even the time he had fallen through the rotted barn roof and broken his leg.

* * *

Nothing. They had found nothing. She was getting tired of daily going to the garrison and finding no news awaiting her. Where had he gone? He could have been mugged for his money, but he wasn't carrying any and the musketeers hadn't found a body.

A body.

Was that all she thought she would find? Was that all that was left of her stubborn tempestuous husband who had such a big heart for the people around him?

She stepped through the archway to head into the garrison. The guards nodded respectfully at her and let her go with out a word. They knew her well enough now. Though it wasn't something she ever wanted to be known for.

"Madam D'Artaganan," greeted Athos ever respectable towards her.

"Any news?"

"Red guards were heard gossiping at a local tavern. We were just heading out to check out our new lead, my lady."

Aramis was ever the charmer. Any other situation it would have amused her. "Please continue then. Don't let me stop you and Aramis…"

The man in question turned back to face her.

"Don't let any local girls distract you either."

"Would I ever," gasped the man?

"The question is would you ever not," teased Porthos as he pulled Aramis out the gate with him. Aramis' wining tone filtered through the air back towards her. She shook her head and chuckled.

"They may act like children, but they can be competent every once in a while."

She turned to face Captain Treville, "I hope so, without Charles…" she trailed off. She simply didn't know. Her time with him had been so short. Yet it was hard to remember life without him around. Was it less than a year ago that she had been terrified to marry him?

"Madam D'Artaganan we will do our utmost to find him for you. I believe the men are off looking at a new lead they found."

She nodded. "I pray that they find something."

"As do I Madam, as do I."

* * *

"So how did they catch you," asked D'Artagnan? Conversation with this man was better than dwelling on the yells he could faintly hear coming from the depths of the darkness.

The man's deep scratchy voice sounded a hundred times more intimidating in the confines of the cell than if he had meet him on the street. Out in the world he could escape, here he was trapped.

"Caught me with my mistress. Was let down by a friend keeping watch."

D'Artagnan shuddered to think of the kind of friends this man had.

"I'm not gonna hang fer it though. Gonna walk outa here in broad daylight."

This man was up to something. Everything about him was suspicious. D'Artagnan was proven right an hour later when a guard came to give them food. In the end the man had the jailers keys and was making a break for it.

"Wait up," D'Artagnan whispered.

He didn't even think it through; he just followed the man wondering when the fatal shot would be delivered. But it never happened. They hurried through the darkened halls without harm. The courtyard was ahead of them. Yells from the other prisoners breaking out surrounded them. D'Artagnan had never felt such terror well up within him. But there was no time to think. The prisoners boiled out the door and into the courtyard while Vadim hung back. They heard shouting and gunshots. It must be a full on riot out there. D'Artagnan felt himself being pulled in a different direction.

"Where are we going?"

"Shut up," growled Vadim motioning him to follow.

Silently the two of them slipped out a side door into the edge of the courtyard. It was then he was shocked out of blindly following Vadim. Shocked beyond measure he was to slow to stop the criminal from grabbing for the queen and holding a gun to her head.

"No," he whispered oblivious to everything but his queen. "This is not happening!" Vadim was dragging the woman towards the gates. Adrenalin filled his body as he lashed out at the criminal from behind and managed to shove the queen out of Vadim's grasp. He gasped as the queen tripped and landed on the ground in the arms of a musketeer. And then pain was his next overwhelming thought. The criminal had a knife to his throat. He must have noticed the musketeers rushing towards them.

"Let us go and the kid will live," Vadim yelled.

D'Artagnan knew he wasn't valuable enough to get them out alive. Still no shot came. He almost laughed as he thought of the terror he had felt inside the prison. The terror he felt now was double that. If he started laughing he would never stop.

"Let him go, he saved my life," demanded the queen. She seemed to recognize him, possibly from Athos trial. And once again D'Artagnan was surprised beyond measure when the gates opened and he escaped with his life.

TBC


	7. A Close Call

"He what," screeched Constance glaring at the three men in front of her. When she got ahold of Charles she was going to kill him, well perhaps after hugging the stuffing out of him first!

"He followed the criminal right out of the prison without looking back once. Still think he is the man for you," asked Aramis?

Constance answered with a hearty slap. "I'm sure he had his reasons. Perhaps he thought he was still a criminal and had to run for his life."

Aramis rolled his eyes as he rubbed his sore cheek meanwhile Athos spoke up for all of them.

"He did save the Queen's life. And she saved his."

Constance felt her eyes go wide. Only Charles could get himself in and out of trouble like this, and they were still working on the getting out of part.

"Yes indeed, he was quite the romantic hero type," teased Aramis.

"Are you jealous of his popularity," asked Porthos?

"Never, getting held at knife point would ruin my perfect good looks. I'll let the boy handle that part."

"We are talking about my husband here! Be serious boys! How did you two ever end up as musketeers anyway?" All Constance wanted was Charles back so they could get on with falling in love and living life.

"It's a long sad story," muttered Athos. "The boy has disappeared for now. It is up to Treville whether we track down a wanted criminal."

The anger boiled inside of her threatening to spew out. She was mad at Charles for getting into this mess. She was mad at these men for not taking her seriously, and she was mad because now her husband was a wanted criminal.

"Madam, we will continue to search for your husband only it has become more serious. He is a wanted criminal and the king wants Vadim, the man D'Artagnan was with, brought to justice," explained the Captain.

She staggered overwhelmed with emotions. The anger of before had turned into terror and then into determination to see her husband free. However, she was feeling swamped by the situation. It seemed to be turning more impossible by the minute! Was this ever going to end?

"Madam D'Artagnan…"

She couldn't find it in herself to answer.

"Constance D'Artagnan!"

She looked up at the concerned faces of the Inseparables and their Captain. Somehow she had ended up seated at one of the tables the men ate at. She hated herself for her weakness and abruptly stood.

"Find him. We will get him free I trust you," she declared staring straight into the Captain's eyes. Now was not the time to feel faint. Now was the time to keep up the good fight.

* * *

He had followed the criminal through the winding narrow Paris streets only to disappear into the Paris underworld. The tunnels were even worse than the streets above. They were narrow, damp, and completely dark except for a small circle of light from Vadim's torch. Once they arrived at their destination D'Artagnan found out more about the situation than he had ever wanted to. After being brutally thrown against the wall and threatened he had found out Vadim's plans. Now he was delivering those plans to the garrison. D'Artagnan shook his head in disbelief, how did he ever get into these situations. Long ago his father had warned him that trouble followed him. He still didn't believe his father. D'Artagnan had discovered that trouble didn't just follow him; no trouble had it in for him!

Constance.

There she was, a picture of beauty and fire, her red hair catching the sun as she chatted with some of the ladies at the market.

She was the reason he was going to get out of this alive.

"Constance."

She turned at the sound of her name and gasped his. Her arms gathered him in against her and crushed him to her. Tears stood out in her beautiful brown eyes.

"Constance, we are being watched."

D'Artagnan felt her stiffen but still she didn't let him go. "Why us?"

"Vadim, the criminal I escaped with, is trouble he is hording gun powder in the tunnels under Paris. He plans to murder the King and Queen."

"And you have to be in the middle of it?"

She asked with such disapproval. It was his turn to stiffen. Did he choose between his wife or his duty. As a French man he must be loyal to his King and Queen, as a husband he must be loyal to his lady.

"What about me? What will happen if you get killed?"

He opened his mouth but no words came. His heart called him to take Constance and leave. His mind ordered him to see this out.

"But you have to do this don't you?"

She seemed so resigned, so sad. Could he break her heart? No he couldn't but could he live with himself if the monarchy died?

"This is your duty and I cannot stand in the way of duty." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Mother told me never to stand in the way of duty lest I not be able to live with the results."

"Constance." One word and it summed up all his feelings for her.

"Charles." One word and he heard every ounce of her love. How he adored this woman!

"Go do you duty but come back to me or I will tear Paris apart looking for you!"

"I promise." Again pages of writing and unspeakable emotion were wrapped up in those two words. He whirled around and marched away unable to look in her eyes any longer.

* * *

Constance dallied in the market place for a little while to make sure no one was watching. To tell the truth she needed time to recover after the intense emotions that had wrapped around her heart. As she watched Charles disappear from view she realized he was the very best man she knew, and that she loved him with all her heart. She loved him so much it scared her. Her parents had never warned her of this. Then again they were content together but their marriage held little love.

Glancing around the market place Constance decided it was safe enough to head to the garrison by the most round about way she knew. It took her a bit longer than she had planned but Constance wanted to be on the safe side. Once inside the garrison she headed straight for the Captain.

"He said this Vadim wants to murder the king and queen," questioned Treville?

"Yes Sir."

"How?"

"Charles says he has barrels of gun powder, he thinks Vadim is going to blow something up."

"Charming," muttered Aramis. "Oh and where is D'Artagnan now?"

"Gaining more information, something he doesn't have to do but is out of a respect for you and his monarchy," she snapped.

"Have a plan Captain?"

Thank goodness for Athos, straight forward as always, and to the point.

"Getting there Athos."

"Tunnels you say, Madam D'Artagnan?"

"Yes…?"

"Well then it seems a rescue mission is in order."

* * *

"Things were not going according to plan, at all.

Firstly Vadim didn't trust him and secondly D'Artagnan had passed along the wrong set of plans. So now here he sat trying to make sense of the situation through a mind-blowing headache. D'Artagnan had woken up to his arms wrapped around a barrel of gunpowder and a criminal sneering at him. It was then he realized help wasn't coming and he was going to die. His life was coming to an end and Constance was going to kill him!

"Thought you had out smarted me kid? Well surprise, I like a good trick!"

Confused D'Artagnan faced down the criminal as best he could from his seated position, "What good is the gun powder if it's blown up?"

The man grinned savagely, "That is just a diversion, and now you will be part of it. In a few minutes the candle will burn down and light this fuse and you will be no more."

D'Artagnan felt sick, he had been so wrong!

With that announcement the man left the room shutting the door firmly behind him.

Never had D'Artagnan felt so stupid or alone.

He couldn't seem to focus on the situation at hand all he could think of was Constance's tear stained face and her words, "Come back to me."

"I promise," he whispered.

The candle was burning closer and closer to the fuse.

"Fight Charles, fight," he could hear her in his mind. She would never stand for giving up.

"I'm fighting," he muttered as he tried to wiggle his hands free. The rope bit into the tender skin of his wrists yet he still kept going. Perhaps he could get the ropes to loosen.

The candle was rapidly burning down and time was wasting!

"Come on," he muttered.

Something sharp stabbed into his hand drawing more blood. The ropes were beginning to get slick.

The candle was getting shorter.

"Fight Charles, Fight!"

He franticly rubbed the fraying rope over the sharp section of the barrel. Just a little more and one of his hands would be free and then maybe he could stop this.

The candle was coming to an end!

"Fight!"

He rubbed the rope fast on the rough edge. The blood made his hands slick. D'Artagnan let out a shout as his hand slipped and the metal cut him.

The fuse had started to burn! He didn't have time for this!

"Charles!"

The rope snapped and D'Artagnan choked back a shout. Now he had to free the other hand. With one hand free and being able to see what was happening the second hand went much quicker. And then he turned around.

The fuse was burning too fast!

"Fight harder!"

"I promise," he muttered before he ran to stamp out the fuse.

Once the fuse was dead he let out a long shaky breath. Maybe, just maybe he would be able to keep his promise to Constance. There was no time to waste. Vadim was loose and needed to be caught. He flung open the door and walked into a nightmare. Fuses were everywhere; they lit up the darkness around his feet. Franticly he went to stamp them out. He could feel his boots heating up under the flames that surrounded them. This wasn't working, time was to short.

"Fight!"

More like run, "I promise Constance," he gasped as he took off down the tunnels.

There was no time for fear or failure or love. Now all that mattered was getting out alive. It started as a deep rumble that grew into a sound as loud as thunder. It sounded like the very depths of the earth were coming to swallow him. The sound echoed down from the tunnels behind him.

D'Artagnan was still running for his life when the force of the explosion threw him forward as the walls around him shuddered and a great wave of energy seemed to roll through his helpless body. He collided with the cold stone floor and the darkness of the tunnels enveloped him.

TBC


	8. Alive and well?

Constance knew she had a temper, but up until this point she hadn't realized what an impatient person she was.

"Why must women act all dignified and lady like," she muttered to the empty courtyard. "And why must they have a man fight all their battles for them?"

"Because Madam D'Artagnan you are a woman in a man's world. It takes a brave woman to stand up and change things."

She whirled around and stared at the man as if she had never met him before. Never would she have thought any man would say such a thing.

"Captain, you surprise me."

He just smiled sadly, "It is often the Queen who helps the king see sense. Can I help you?"

"Yes! Yes, what is happening with everyone? Why are you here, where are the men?"

"I must be available to the king. That is where I am headed now. The men are out on patrol trying to get a better idea of what is happening with your husband."

With that the Captain bowed to her and made his way to the palace leaving her alone with her anxious thoughts yet again!

* * *

A low rumble shook the ground beneath her feet and a cloud of smoke filled the sky above the palace. If she thought she had been impatient before she was even more so now. The few men that were left at the garrison gathered their weapons and headed for the palace. Constance anxiously followed. Her worry would not let her be. She could feel a scream rising up from within her. An ache that would not let go, Charles could be dead. He was in the middle of the trouble. What ever it was he could be counted on to be in the middle of it.

"You promised to come back! Fight Charles fight," she whispered with tears streaming down her face.

She had been stopped a distance from the palace by the guards. Now all she could do was wait and pray.

"Fight Charles, fight you promised."

* * *

Darkness greeted him. It was so thick he could feel it wrapping around his body and trying to pull him back into unconsciousness. For the second time in a week he woke to excruciating pain and no idea where he was. Panic welled up within him. Every part of his body felt numb, he wasn't sure if he could even move.

Gun powder!

Explosions!

Vadim!

It was coming back to him. Somewhere out there in the darkness of the tunnels a criminal lurked. He had no time to sit around.

"Fight Charles fight," his mind reminded him.

"Yes fight," he mumbled as he tried to make his body move.

It was no easy process. His limbs wanted nothing to do with his plan of moving.

"Fight," he encouraged himself as pain flared through his body.

"I promised," he muttered as he finally got to his feet aided by the stone wall.

"I'm coming Constance," he promised as he stumbled painfully down the tunnel.

Sliding his hand along the stone wall D'Artagnan guided himself through the darkness. He could only hope and pray that he was going in the right direction! Rounding a corner he noticed a flash of light ahead. Silently D'Artagnan crept forward praying his body would hold up for just a little longer.

It was Vadim.

"Fight Charles Fight!"

"Vadim."

The man spun around surprise written on his face. For once D'Artagnan had been able to surprise the man.

"Why are you still alive," the criminal growled?

D'Artagnan laughed, a crazed laugh even to him. He had simply been through too much and it was wearing on him.

"You are full of surprises."

"I had a good teacher," D'Artagnan announced using the shadows to his advantage and attacking from an unexpected position. Their swords crossed. The sound of metal echoed loudly in the tunnels. There was no finesse to this fight; his body was to worn out for that. It was all he could do just to stay on his feet and out of the way of Vadim's sword. Just when it felt like his body would collapse he managed to get in the deadly hit. Vadim dropped his sword to the ground and clutched his stomach, stumbling hastily down the tunnel. A trail of blood gave evidence to his direction.

"Fight!"

D'Artagnan knew he should be following the criminal but he had nothing left in him. His body was threatening to give into the pain and dizziness.

Suddenly other sounds besides his harsh breathing filled the tunnel and from out of the darkness he heard a familiar voice.

"So you are alive," came Athos ringing endorsement.

D'Artagnan checked himself over, "I guess I am."

That hadn't sounded very reassuring. But from the first moment of awareness deep in the tunnels his pain had only increased.

"I'm fine," he declared with more confidence. "Lets find Vadim so I can return to Constance."

"Yes about that, why didn't you ever mention you were married," asked Aramis as they followed the blood trail down the tunnel?

"You want to know that now," asked D'Artagnan stopping in surprise?

"No he doesn't, let's go," ordered Athos and D'Artagnan gladly followed along. He wondered just how much more his body could take. After what felt like years to D'Artagnan they finally reached the end of the tunnels and the beginning of the outside world. Before them was the river and next to it a dying Vadim.

The criminal was no longer a threat. D'Artagnan stared at the body before him. It seemed like he was coming out of a dream where the details were a bit hazy and where his body was still lethargic with sleep.

Was it over, or did he still need to watch his back? Had he really almost been blown up?

He didn't realize he was swaying back and forth until Aramis set a steady hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to sit and rest a moment.

"Fight Charles fight!"

There was no time to rest!

"I promise," he whispered.

"What do you promise lad," asked a voice. Again it all sounded like a dream with voices wafting through his mind.

"To fight," he murmured, "To fight and do my duty. I promised."

"It's alright now. Rest awhile. Your duty is done lad." The voice sounded like Aramis.

"No," he tried to get back up but his body deserted him and refused to obey. "Constance, I've got to fight for her."

Things just weren't making sense. The adrenalin was leaving him exhausted and slow of mind and body.

"She is safe, the King and Queen are safe, you are safe, rest lad."

Aramis soothing voice and arm around his shoulder brought him slowly back to himself. He missed the rest of the words but the kindness and gentleness was a balm to his aching body and heart.

"You back with us whelp?"

He smiled tiredly, that was pure Porthos. Right now the man was a wall of protection and strength between him and the world. How had he come to be friends with these men so fast? He didn't know but he was too exhausted to dwell on it now.

"I'm here, never left," he muttered.

D'Artagnan heard the chuckles of amusement from his friends and rolled his eyes, but left it at that. He was too tired to do anything else. Gentle hands helped him to his feet and Athos' steadying hand on his back got him through his first few steps. Gathering his wits he stepped ahead of the men determined to see this through and prove himself.

"I'm fine I can make it back."

He didn't think the others believed him because he occasionally felt a steady hand when his body began to weave or when his feet threatened to trip him up. The walk back to the garrison seemed never ending. Finally the stone arch was in sight. D'Artagnan honestly didn't think he could have made it any farther. And there by the Captain's stairs stood Constance waiting, for him. An intense love he had never known before flowed through him as she rushed to meet him. He was too exhausted to run to her but she made up for it crushing his body to hers. Knocking the breath out of him she stole it again by sealing her lips on his. He thought he heard a few whistles and cleared throats behind him but only Constance was in his thoughts.

"I promised," he whispered through her kiss.

"You came back to me," she murmured kissing him yet again.

TBC


	9. Healing

**Finals are done so back to the Musketeers!**

She was never going to live down the teasing of her greeting, but he was never going to live down practically fainting at her feet.

"Alcohol."

She passed Aramis the drink and helped the others hold her husband down as the medic took care of Charles' mangled wrists.

Charles was a mess. Once they had gotten him to the infirmary and started checking him over she realized her husband would be there for a while.

"Gauze."

She handed Aramis the bandage and watched as he gently wrapped her husband's wrists.

"Shirt."

She stepped forward and held her husband as Porthos gently slid off his shirt.

As his middle was uncovered all of them gasped. There was a dip where his ribs should be and bruising like nothing she had ever seen before.

"Fight," he murmured in his delirium.

"Promised, must fight."

"Shh," she soothed, "You kept your promise, you came back."

Charles had done his duty and had come back to her against all odds. How she loved this man. He scared her half to death running into danger and he awed her the way he cared for those around him.

"If you could stop daydreaming about your husband for a moment I could use a hand wrapping his ribs."

She blushed and hurried to help Aramis, doing her best to ignore the smirk he sent her way. Feeling Charles' hot skin as she held him Constance wondered if he was fevered.

"Its all the trauma he's been through," comforted Aramis.

"Apparently you've added mind reading to your talents."

"It was written on your face," the exasperating man explained. "D'Artagnan will be sore for a while but he will recover."

"Of course he will," she snapped leaving Aramis to tie up the wrap.

Since it looked like they had addressed all her husband's injuries she decided to make him comfortable as possible. Walking to the end of the bed she tugged on Charles' boots.

"Ahhhhh!"

The wounded cry broke Constance's heart.

"Charles?"

"He's still out," Porthos informed her.

"His boots are burned through. Parts of his feet are a bit burned."

Aramis hurried over to help her carefully nudge the boots off. The medic kept a soothing monologue going of what he was doing. Constance found his gentle voice reassuring and calming.

"Constance, No. I promised. No, no, no! Can't die, I promised. Promised…" sweat was beading up on her husbands body as he thrashed around in his sleep.

"Can't die, Promised."

"Porthos hold him still," demanded Aramis!

The man hurried to do as he was told. Porthos slipped behind her husband and held him around the chest so Charles' feet could be examined.

Her eyes widened, "What's happening?"

"He is reliving his experience, It's the fever," explained Aramis.

"He thought he was going to die." Tears sprang to her eyes, she could feel herself shaking, and her body desperately needed air…

"Constance," he shouted, "pull yourself together and help me out."

"Aramis, she…"

"No, Athos! Constance, Charles needs you now!"

Taking a deep breath she pressed her frantic emotions down and faced Aramis.

"Alright what can I do?"

"Good girl, bathe his face and chest to help cool him down. Athos bring me more water and another cloth I need to take care of these feet!"

Everyone rushed to do his bidding. But Charles' thrashing got worse the more they tried to help.

"Talk to him Constance."

"Talk? Can he hear me?"

"Yes it might keep him calm to hear your voice," Aramis explained.

"Charles if you can understand me I want you to know how angry I am at you."

The heads of all three men swung up to stare aghast at her. She just chuckled.

"You rush head first into danger…"

"Your supposed to be soothing him," complained Porthos.

"I am," she snapped!

Porthos rolled his eyes so she ignored him and continued to talk.

"Duty rates so high to you. Despite that you awe me. You don't shy away from the hardships life offers you. No matter what, you have to do what your conscience dictates."

She looked shyly at the others, they seemed to be focused on their jobs. So she continued.

"Yet I wouldn't love you any other way." This she whispered in his ear.

Still she caught a few smirks from the others so they must have heard. Well they better get used it because the two of them were sticking around if the Captain would have them!

* * *

It seemed like all he ever did lately was fall asleep and wake up. Awareness was coming back slowly and with it all his aches and pains. He couldn't seem to take a deep breath and his feet and wrists hurt horribly. But Constance was asleep next to the bed.

"Come back to me."

He smiled he would always come back to her. He loved her deeply. He was in awe of her strength and courage.

She looked so tired though, as did Aramis who was sleeping in a chair further away. How long had they been worrying over him?

"Charles?"

He looked up into Constance's concerned eyes.

"Constance you're here."

"Of course silly man where else would I be?"

"She's been at your side for two days. You developed quite a fever and concussion," explained Aramis.

"For so long Constance?"

She laughed, "You made it my business to sit with you after fainting at my feet."

"You are a beautiful woman, I'm sure you are used to it," he teased.

Aramis snickered in the background and he had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to live all this down. In the short time he'd been in Paris these men had become his friends.

Constance sent the man a death glare before bending down and gracing him with a kiss. It was just as beautiful as the last one. The moment their lips connected he knew he wanted to propose to her. They were already married, but it had been such a staid event. He longed to tell her just how much he loved her and how he wanted to love her till death do us part.

Black spots behind his eyes made him break the kiss. Constance seemed disappointed but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. Something seemed to constrict his lungs. His vision waivered, Constance went blurry then gray.

"Charles?"

He couldn't answer. Right about now he should be making a quip about the effect she had on him…

"Charles, what's the matter? Aramis he can't breathe!"

"That's what happens when you kiss a beautiful woman."

A hearty slap followed that statement. If he had the breath he would have laughed. Aramis deserved that one!

"D'Artagnan breathe with me. Come on now match my breathing. You have injured your ribs, which is why you are having such a hard time. In... out... good again... there you go."

Finally his vision wasn't dancing, however the pain still raged.

"No more kissing beautiful women until your ribs have healed up a bit. Think you can overcome the temptation," teased Aramis?

"Are you looking for another slap," muttered Constance?

Aramis just smirked, for now his full attention was focused on Charles.

D'Artagnan could only nod. He still didn't have the breath to answer. He was beginning to be rather worried about that.

"It's ok D'Artagnan breathe in, breathe out. Your ribs are wrapped so it's taking a while to catch your breath."

"Was the kiss worth it," asked Porthos, standing beside the bed, with a grin covering his face?

"Really," shrieked Constance, "are the two of you a couple of teenagers?"

"It was a good looking kiss," commented Aramis, ignoring Constance's comment, "but I have a few suggestions to make it better."

"Oh yeah, our resident Romeo offering classes for the poor fools who can't figure out love," joked Porthos?

"Yes, remind me to sign you up."

"Oi!"

"Guys," whispered D'Artagnan…

Everyone stopped talking immediately.

"Don't talk about my wife that way," he managed to breathe out.

"Yes, he is a fine kisser and for starters I know he is all mine," snapped Constance with a side-glance Aramis way.

"Ha, she got you there Romeo," snarked Porthos!

Aramis purposefully ignored his friend and continued his check up on D'Artagnan.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine now that you aren't flirting with my wife!"

Aramis rolled his eyes, "If I was flirting she would not have slapped me!"

"Want to bet," snapped Constance glaring at the man?

Taking the safe route Aramis turned back to D'Artagnan, "Besides fine, how do you feel?"

D'Artagnan could sense the annoyance coming off Aramis from that question.

The medic continued, "I can't treat you if I don't know what's happening!"

"Fine," he muttered, " I hurt like I never have before!"

"Ever been almost blown to bits?"

"Porthos," gasped Constance, "that is not something to joke over!"

It seemed Constance was his guarding angel for the moment. Her death glares and face slaps were almost as lethal as the glares Athos threw about. What a women! If she were a man he would want her right next to him in the Musketeers! Maybe he would teach her a few moves if she was up for it. He was jolted out of his thoughts when a mug was thrust under his nose. The strong herbal aroma made him turn away and make a face.

"Drink it!"

How could Aramis sound exactly like his mother when he said that? There had been no refusing her either.

"It's for the pain, it will do you good, now drink it."

Making a face he screwed up his courage and drank it down. It wasn't the worse concoction he had drunk but it certainly wasn't the best!

"There, soon the pain will be more manageable."

He rolled his eyes. He had been doing just fine. A light slap on the side of his face startled him.

"It is ok to admit you are in pain," declared Constance, "I won't think any less of you and neither will they."

"That is true," agreed Porthos. "Don't feel like you have to prove yourself to us. We can't thank you enough for saving Athos' life."

D'Artagnan was feeling drowsy and warm so he just nodded and let himself float away into sleep.

TBC


	10. Living the Dream

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs before they paused in front of the infirmary door. Ever so quietly the door squeaked open to reveal a concerned face.

"Captain," Constance whispered getting up to meet him.

"No need to stand on ceremony Madam D'Artagnan." He waved for her to be seated. "How is your husband doing?"

"He woke up earlier and had a hard time breathing. Aramis gave him something for the pain and he fell back asleep."

"Ahh," smiled the Captain as if he knew of Aramis potions first hand. Actually he probably did. "It will help your husband heal."

"Aramis told you what was wrong with him?"

"Athos actually. I always get a better and more concise report from him. Porthos and Aramis tend to dramatize things."

She snickered. She could just imagine some of the things they came up with.

"Yes," grimaced Treville, "I can see you've had first hand experience with that."

She just nodded.

"That wasn't all Athos told me. It seems he is very impressed with your husband."

Constance smiled, "Charles is a good man, the best of men."

The Captain nodded. "I've noticed. When your husband is well I would like to talk with him. We could use more men like him in the Musketeers."

Again she nodded, pride in the man she married welling up within her.

"I assume you know what you are getting into now. Are you ready for that life Madam D'Artagnan?"

"We have talked about this, I am ready."

The man seemed surprised.

"Charles has wanted to be a musketeer for longer than I have known him. Being a farmer like his father would have drained him. He would have done it out of duty but his heart would have grown old and weary before his time."

"You are a wise woman Madam. You certainly have the bravery needed for a musketeer's wife."

"And you Sir are a very understanding man."

The Captain shook his head. " I just know what it's like to follow your dreams. My family had land in Gascony as well, yet I followed adventure into the army."

With that he bowed gallantly to her and left the room.

Charles dreams where coming true and she couldn't have been happier.

* * *

The pain was better than it had been, however his ribs still gave him trouble and his feet were very tender. Carefully protecting his ribs he hobbled over to the table and dropped down into a chair next to it. Waking up this past time had been easier and much less painful. The kiss he and Constance shared had been worth waking up for! He wanted those to be more and more frequent. He was rapidly falling in love with his wife. Aramis and Porthos teased him about his kissing constantly! If they had someone like Constance they would understand. Still he needed a way to get back at them.

The door creaked open and the Captain walked through. When ever the man entered a room there was no missing his authority.

"Charles D'Artagnan is now a good time to talk?"

He nodded and the Captain Treville strode forward to take a seat at the small wood table.

"It seems we have much to thank you for," declared the Captain. "Athos life for one and being honorable enough to back up a man you had only met once. Not to mention this incident with Vadim. You now have the respect of several of my best men. It seems we owe you something."

"Sir I don't need anything. Only, Athos thought there might be an opening to train and become a musketeer?"

The Captain smiled and D'Artagnan's heart jumped with hope. Could he, a farmer's son, actually become a musketeer?

"Yes there is a spot to train. That is why I asked to speak with you. The queen also pardons you as a gift for saving her life. Unfortunately because of the destruction you won't get a commission from this."

"All I need is a spot to train. From there I'll find my place Sir."

"I believe you son. Welcome to the garrison. It will be a great deal of hard work but if you put your mind to it you can make it."

D'Artagnan was floating on air. He couldn't believe what had just happened. A pair of arms encircled him and he looked up into Constance's beaming face.

"You did it."

Overwhelmed with emotions he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

A whistle sounded out behind them braking the moment. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and waited for the teasing to start.

"Seems like they don't need lessons from you after all Romeo."

"One can always improve," quipped Aramis.

"Gentlemen."

D'Artagnan watched as Athos glared the two of them into silence.

"Congratulations D'Artagnan, you more than deserve the spot."

The quiet praise filled D'Artagnan's heart with joy. He always wanted to make this man proud. There was something about Athos that pushed D'Artagnan to do better.

The other two were not so quiet in their praise. If they had been he would have worried. Both of them had a hand on his shoulder and were grinning widely.

"Yeah, can't wait to show ya some of my tricks. Even a little runt like you could take someone down twice your size," crowed Porthos slapping D'Artagnan on the shoulder!

"Careful with the boy," growled Aramis protectively.

D'Artagnan was thankful for the medic's distraction as he tried to get his breath back.

"Sorry kid," muttered Porthos ruffling his hair this time.

"He may actually heal if you don't backslap him into tomorrow," scolded Athos!

"Naw, he's tougher than he looks. Gotta be to train as a musketeer. Though he does seem kinda scrawny."

"Hey," yelled D'Artagnan!

"Porthos my friend, everyone is scrawny next to you."

"Yep even you Aramis."

"I'm not scrawny, I'm fit and hansom!"

D'Artagnan looked over at Constance to see her struggling not to laugh. Was this how it felt to have siblings? Could these men become his brothers? He hadn't realized how much he had been missing his family until now!

"Now you just focus on getting better so we can show you around," encouraged Aramis.

"Yea, Paris has some good spots…"

"Gentlemen, you will not be leading the boy into trouble," scolded Athos.

The two rolled their eyes and refocused on D'Artagnan.

"It will be good to have another person watching our backs," declared Aramis changing the subject to keep peace.

D'Artagnan was astonished by the amount of trust these men put in him already.

"I will do my best."

"We know," declared Aramis. "You kept your promise to Constance after all."

* * *

Her husband was training to be a musketeer. It made her so proud and it scared her half to death. She paused in her work to watch the men. Charles' face was a picture of concentration and sweat. His dark eyes danced with joy as he jumped back dodging Athos blade. Charles' ribs had healed fast and he took delight in his training as a musketeer. The clash of steel on steel brought back memories of the fateful day when they had lost the farm. She wondered if the sounds carried bad memories for her husband? He had yet to really talk or mourn his father's death and she worried for him. Yet she had no idea how to bring it up.

"It took Athos longer to best him this time, you owe me," yelled Porthos interrupting her thoughts.

"I don't owe you. You said…"

She laughed at their banter and moved her focus back on her husband. Athos was repeating a move and yet again he knocked the sword out of Charles' hand.

"They providing a good show," asked a voice behind her?

"Yes Sir. Although Athos seems unbeatable."

The Captain chuckled. "You never know Madam D'Artagnan, your husband is full of surprises."

She nodded respectfully and then changed the subject. "Captain do you have any laundry for me?"

"Yes, wait a moment and I will send someone down with it."

She stayed in the courtyard and continued to watch her husband spar as she waited. She had taken to doing laundry for the garrison as a way to make ends meet. She also helped out in the kitchen in order to receive a meal. It was an odd way of living. The women at the market she had befriended reminded her it was the men who provided for the family. She didn't agree. It gave her a sense of worth and purpose. Her importance to the family was just as great as her husbands. While it was a great deal of back breaking work she was happy. She had a husband who loved her, good friends, and a roof over her head. What more could she ask for?

* * *

"Ey, D'Artagnan I didn't pound you so hard to day that your going to skip drinks did I?"

"No, and one of these days I'm going to take you down," taunted D'Artagnan.

"Oi, now I think I didn't pound you hard enough!"

"Porthos, if you had pounded him any harder there wouldn't have been anything left for him to take home to his wife!"

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes at their playing. These men were fast becoming the brothers he never had. He was enjoying every moment of time spent with them. Well almost every moment, he did have some hefty bruises now thanks to Porthos.

"I have a surprise for Constance," he grinned. Even here on the street he could picture her lovely face lighting up with joy.

Aramis opened his mouth to say something but Athos pushed him towards the tavern at the last minute sending a soft smirk in D'Artagnan's direction.

"She's a lucky woman," whispered Porthos before following the other two.

"No, I am," D'Artagnan called back. How his life had changed since that nerve racking wedding day where he had first glimpsed Constance's face.

He was home. Grinning he opened the door to the delicious smell of his wife's cooking.

"Sit and eat food is ready," called Constance.

He obeyed, starving after a day full of trying to wrestle the grizzly known as Porthos.

"You have a good day?"

He nodded and swallowed before answering. "Practiced with Porthos most of the day. He beat me up real good."

"You still in one piece," she teased?

"I'm not sure, you want to check?"

She slapped his shoulder and blushed a deep red. "Hush you!"

He just laughed and finished his supper. Before she could get up to do the dishes he pulled a package out of his jacket and handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"A surprise, open it and find out!"

She grinned in excitement, her eyes dancing as her fingers gingerly opened the wrapping.

"Charles," she laughed, "How did you know? This is my favorite!" Her laugh was so joyful, so happy and free, and her beautiful smile lit up her face.

"A happy guess." He couldn't help but grin back at her.

She placed the beautiful pastry on the table and rushed into his arms.

"Nuh ah, not yet my lady, sit down," he teased shrugging out of her hug.

Confused she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Don't go playing with my heart Charles D'Artagnan!"

He grinned roguishly, "Would I ever?" With that he took her arm and escorted her to her chair as one would escort a grand lady.

Eyes wide and brimming with curiosity Constance sank down into her chair with all the grace of a queen. Kneeling in front of her D'Artagnan gently grasped her hands and nervously began the speech he had been practicing all day.

"Constance D'Artagnan I don't believe there is a finer soul in all of France. You shine so brightly in my eyes it puts every other woman to shame."

"Charles," she whispered her checks beautifully pinked her eyes hazy with tears and her lovely mouth inches from his own.

"I love you so much. Constance I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Say you will love me until death do us part."

"Yes Charles, oh yes. I love you so much…"

He couldn't wait another moment. Sweeping her in his arms he kissed her breathless. The pastry sat forgotten as they reveled in the love they felt for each other

TBC


End file.
